Reunion
by HeartOfChaos
Summary: Epilogue to Mini Moments of Mark and Roger.I suggest reading that one first,but I suppose this could stand on it's own.'Perhaps its because I'm the one of us to survive' You couldn't have been more wrong, Mark. Roger's thinking whilst dying.


_Perhaps it's because I'm the one of us to survive!_

You couldn't have been more wrong, Mark. But who knew that the whole situation would be reversed; I ended up being the one to survive, not you. I survived up until this point; I survived long enough to watch all of our friends die off, one by one.

The first one to go after you was, to our surprise, was Joanne, about two months after we lost you. It turns out she had this weird heart condition and one day, when she was in the middle of court proceedings, her heart just couldn't take anymore; she collapsed and died right there. I've never seen Maureen so genuinely upset. The funeral was big and grandiose, the complete opposite of yours. But then again, we couldn't afford to give you the funeral you deserved, and Joanne's parents could. Mo tried to say something at the funeral, but she just broke down and sobbed at the podium until Collins snuck up there and escorted her back to her seat. Mo never dated again.

Collins went about six months later. One of the students at NYU found him in his office. He called 911, but it was already too late. I shouldn't say I was surprised; it'd been seven years since Angel died; how could we expect Collins to persevere without the love of his life any longer?

Benny was giving Maureen a ride home from her performance space two months later when some drunk bastard hit them head on. Benny was killed on impact and Maureen was rushed to the hospital with severe head trauma, broken ribs, and I can't even remember what else. She died on the table when they went in to try to stop the hemorrhaging.

For the next two years that left me and Mimi. You remember how unstable her health was, don't you Mark? She was in and out of the hospital for that period. I somehow managed to only land myself there twice; once for pneumonia and once for trying to write a new song while crossing a busy intersection. Anyway it didn't come as much of a shock when Mimi got so sick one night and begged me not to take her to the hospital. I didn't. I held her and whispered in her ear and kissed her until, like with you, I felt her presence leave me. And I knew no matter how many times I sang "Your Eyes" to her, she wasn't going to come back this time.

I was alone. Now I understand why that terrified you, because it _is_ terrifying. You wake up in the morning and, without thinking, shout out and ask who's making breakfast. When no one answers you, the realization that all the ones you loved are gone and not coming back. I can't tell you how many times that would hit me like an anvil on the head and broke down.

Mark you're not going to be happy with me, but I stopped taking my meds when Mimi died. I didn't see any point; I had tried hard to get a record deal, by myself and with countless bands that I attempted to form, but it never worked. I didn't want to survive in this hell without Mimi…hell, Benny…Maureen…Joanne…Collins…you…

I would've traded anything in the world, paid any price, done anything to just get at least one of you back. I couldn't handle life on my own. I just couldn't.

So here I am, lying in my bed. The virus has taken hold. Only took a year after Mimi died. I can't wait to see her, to see all our friends…to see you.

I still feel guilty about your death. You were young, you were healthy, you were talented and smart. All it took was your idiot junky best friend's addiction to smack and your actions to help him and you were royally screwed for life. You told me before you died in that hospital bed that it wasn't my fault. I told you I had to take some responsibility for this. I remember your response as if you just said it yesterday: I could blame myself after you were dead if I insisted. So I did, and I do.

I can feel it coming closer. I smile and close my eyes, waiting for it, waiting for the pain to stop, waiting to see friendly faces again.

Another fucking coughing fit wracks my body. The pain is unbearable and all I want is to just go, but part of me is a little freaked out. What if, because I as good as killed you, I end up in hell? None of you (with the possible exception of Collins, but I won't get into that) would end up in hell; you're all just…too good. I already did my time in hell whilst in life…I can't handle anymore suffering.

I see that cliché warm, bright light at the end of the tunnel. I walk towards it hesitantly. There's a silhouette standing against the light…a skinny, spiky haired, somewhat shorter silhouette…

Oh my God.

"Hey Roger."

"Mark?"

"No, it's Rick James. Of course it's Mark. Who else were you expecting?"

"Some guy in red with a twirly mustache, tail, and a pitchfork."

"Nah, you didn't screw up that much to end up in hell."

"But—but I as good as killed you! I basically killed my best friend!"

"Geez, you're still on about that? Rog, that doesn't matter anymore. Let it go."

"But—"

"Let it go man. I'm not bitter or angry or anything…I'm just glad to see you again. Despite the fact that you are an ass who constantly rubbed in his much greater sex life in my face, I love you…and I missed you. Though Collins and Mimi did keep me entertained with stories of you…She misses you too."

"Mark can you have sex up here? I have some husbandly duties I need to make up for."

"Are the only things that occupy your mind music and sex?"

"No."

And before Mark knew it I ran up to him and hugged him.

_Gah! This is terrible! But there are some redeeming moments. I know it's not great, but I wanted to use this idea before I forgot it. Hope your eyes didn't explode with how gross and somewhat cliche' it sounds._

_HeartOfChaos_


End file.
